Cruel Intentions, continued...

The next afternoon, Jordan sat at his desk with a book in front of him, staring ahead at the wall. He had been trying to study, but he couldn’t focus. He still felt slightly nauseous from yesterday, but that wasn’t the main problem. His main problem was named Kyle Daniels. He didn’t like living with a guy who was out to get him.

He spent the morning trying to get through to his physician, asking him to call in new prescriptions for him. When he went over to the pharmacy, he found that he was immediately approached by an employee who asked if he needed help. Jordan didn’t like to admit that he needed help. He was twenty years old and they were approaching him like he was a little old lady. But shopping was pretty difficult with his wheelchair, so he was grateful for the help.

Jordan wished he knew what it was like to walk into a store or restaurant and just get treated normal like everyone else. And not get stared at. That would be nice, for once. He couldn’t even remember what it had been like anymore.

Of course, that was one of the things Kirsten liked about him. He knew it was true. She liked that when they showed up at a restaurant, the hostess never made them wait for a table. Kirsten loved being watched, she loved the attention. More than once, they had gone to a restaurant and Kirsten talked him into pretending he couldn’t move his arms either. As he kept his arms motionless in his lap and Kirsten fed him like a good little nursemaid, he could feel every eye in the restaurant watching them. And Kirsten ate it up.

If it were anyone else, Jordan might have felt resentful, but Kirsten could get away with murder as far as he was concerned. And she knew it.

That’s why he couldn’t stand the idea of Kyle trying to break the two of them up. There was nothing in his life that made him happy besides her. It might have been Kirsten’s bet, but knew she was capable of changing her mind at the drop of a hat. He couldn’t lose Kirsten at any cost.

Jordan heard a knock at the door and looked up. “It’s open. Come in!”

The door cracked open and he saw Kirsten’s heart-shaped face. “Jordan... did you miss me?”

He grinned. “Like crazy. Get over here.”

Kirsten hesitated at the door. “You dry?”

“Get the fuck over here, Kirsten.”

She laughed and jumped onto his lap. They kissed for several minutes as his fingers slid under her shirt and attempted to unhook her bra. She stopped him. “I need a favor, cuz,” she said.

“What?”

“Can I borrow your wheelchair this weekend?”

Jordan stared at her. “No. What the fuck?”

“Please? I’ll just take your spare,” Kirsten said. “Seriously, just for a few hours on Saturday...”

“What for?” Jordan didn’t like the idea of lending out his chair, even if it was just his spare. But it was too hard to say no to Kirsten.

“A date.” She winked at him. “I met this guy online and he’s real excited about meeting me. I thought it would be fun if I showed up in a wheelchair.”

“Yeah, I’ve done that,” Jordan said wryly. “It’s actually not all that fun.”

“You’ve met a girl online?”

Jordan shrugged. “Once. I got bored. Although you do realize I use a wheelchair during all my dates, right?”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Who is this cyber-chick you went out with?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jordan said. “It was like a year ago. We were chatting online and we decided to meet for a date.”

“And you didn’t tell me? I’m jealous.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Did you tell her before you met that you needed a wheelchair?”

“No. I wanted her to actually show up.”

“So did she freak when she saw you?”

“Well, yeah. At first. But eventually, I fucked her.”

“Of course.” Kirsten smiled. “See, that’s what I want. I want this guy to totally freak when he sees me.”

“You going to fuck him?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Depends how he looks. Most guys aren’t as hot as you are.”

“No kidding.”

“Too bad you’re crippled,” Kirsten said in his ear. “Otherwise they’d be lining up for ya.”

Kirsten had made an art form out of insulting him. She ran her tongue along the side of his neck to show there were no hard feelings. “So Jordan, what do you say? Can I have your wheelchair?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Please?”

He felt her hand sliding under his shirt, her fingers circling his nipple. “All right, all right. Damn. Take the chair.”

Jordan raised his eyebrows. “Tell you what, why don’t you just take them both? I’ll just stay in bed all day until you get back from your date. Or better yet, I’ll just drag myself around the room.”

“We can do without the sarcasm, Jordan,” she said haughtily.

Jordan grabbed Kirsten’s hand and yanked it out from underneath his shirt. Before she had a chance to protest, he tossed her off his lap and onto the sofa. She screamed in mock terror as he quickly transferred onto the sofa, pinning her down with the weight of his body. He tightened his fists around her wrists as she kicked at his paralyzed legs.

“Oh, you’re in trouble!” Kirsten giggled.

“I don’t think so,” Jordan said as he pressed his lips onto hers. She stopped struggling against him and took his tongue into her hot mouth.

They had sex on the couch that Jordan took satisfaction in knowing Kyle would be sitting on later today. Afterward, Jordan lay across the couch, exhausted, as Kirsten gently massaged his feet. He couldn’t feel her touching his feet, but he liked to watch.

Kirsten had a strange fascination with Jordan’s legs. He remembered the first time he had come to Kirsten’s house after he got out of rehab at age ten. He had felt so self-conscious, being in the wheelchair, knowing that he had to wear a diaper now. He also didn’t realize how many stairs there were in Kirsten’s house. He and Kirsten had been best friends before his accident, but he was scared she wouldn’t like him anymore now that he was such a loser. The first hour he was over, Kirsten’s mother set them up with a game of Monopoly and it was very awkward. They barely spoke as they played and every minute Jordan was acutely aware of the wheelchair and the fact that he couldn’t run around and play like he used to.

When Jordan had felt he could take it no more, Kirsten had rested her chin in her small palms and asked him with wide eyes, You really can’t feel your legs at all?

Nope, Jordan had replied, very embarrassed.

Wow. She blinked in disbelief. Can I see?

His protests had been useless, as usual. She brought him into her room and working together they managed to get his pants off his legs. Kirsten stared at Jordan’s knobby legs with his feet falling against each other. He knew she could see the diaper he was wearing. She dug her fingernails into his left shin. You really can’t feel this? He shook his head no.

Cool, she breathed.

This wasn’t the last time Jordan’s pants came off in the privacy of Kirsten’s room. Even before the couple eventually had sex, Kirsten loved to touch and massage his paralyzed legs. After a year, he stopped needing the diaper and this encouraged her to experiment with touching his legs further up his thigh.

He remembered a day when he was eleven, she was massaging the bare skin of his legs as they watched television alone in her room, and they both became aware of the tent forming under his boxers. Kirsten, never the subtle one, pointed it out, What’s that?

I’m hard, Jordan told her. It’s because you’re touching me.

Neither of them quite understood what it meant, but Kirsten continued to give him erections on a regular basis. And two years later, after they consummated their relationship, the massages invariably led to fucking.

Jordan hated it when other people touched his legs. When he saw doctors, he always held his breath and cringed as his legs were examined. During sex, he discouraged his partner from touching them. But somehow, when Kirsten did it, it was okay. But then again, everything Kirsten did was okay. He knew she owned him, and it didn’t bother him one bit.

Kyle ran into his friend Mitch on the way back from class. Kyle wasn’t in the mood to talk to Mitch, but Mitch wasn’t one to be ignored. “Hey, Kyle,” Mitch said. “How’s your roommate?”

“Fuck off,” Kyle muttered.

“Be nice,” Mitch said. “Someday I may be your roommate-in-law.”

Kyle gritted his teeth. “Let me ask you something: did Jordan tell you to let me know that the two of you fucked around?”

“He said he didn’t care if you knew,” Mitch said. “So to me, of course, that means yes. He did tell me to show up at Kirsten’s party at around eleven.”

“Son of a bitch...” Kyle muttered. Jordan must have planned for Mitch to tell Kyle what had happened just a little too late for Kyle to stop it.

Mitch followed Kyle to his room and waited as he opened the door. To Kyle’s dismay, Jordan and Kirsten were already occupying the living room. Jordan’s wheelchair was pushed to the side and he was lying on the couch with his legs in Kirsten’s lap. He wasn’t wearing any socks and Kirsten was massaging his bare feet and lower legs.

Kyle could hardly watch. Ever since they left the room, Mitch had been hitting on Jordan nonstop. As they walked to the bar, Mitch used any excuse to touch Jordan’s shoulder. Mitch was the one who pulled Jordan backwards in his wheelchair up the three steps to get into McDougal’s, and when they got to the top, Mitch massaged Jordan’s neck as he adjusted himself in his chair.

Now, even in the dim light of the bar, Kyle could see Mitch’s hand sliding up Jordan’s shirt. Up? Or was it down? He didn’t want to know. Jordan’s eyes were pinned on his beer and he seemed neither interested in nor disgusted by Mitch’s advances.

“Don’t worry,” Jordan said. “When it’s you and me, I promise I’ll take it slow.”

Kyle was about to shoot back with another snide comment when he heard a male voice from above them. “Well, well, well... if it isn’t Jordan fucking Grant...”

Jordan looked up at the burly guy about their age who was standing above them. The guy was built like a football player and Kyle instinctively cringed, having pissed off many guys like that in his lifetime. “Rick Dawson,” Jordan acknowledged him. “I didn’t expect to see you around here.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t,” the guy Rick said, leaning over Jordan menacingly. “You know, I dreamed about getting a chance to see you again, Grant. So I could tear you a new asshole.”

“It’s good to see you too, Rick,” Jordan said, grinning slightly. “How’s Maria?”

Jordan’s comment caused Rick to grab him by his shirt for a full second before letting him go. Jordan flinched but Kyle was surprised at how calm he was. “You’ve got some nerve, Grant,” Rick growled. “You fucking steal my girl then you throw it in my face? You really want a broken nose, don’t you?”

“It was a long time ago,” Jordan said with a shrug. “I figured you’d be over it by now.”

“You figured wrong, you piece of shit!” Rick yelled. He looked over at Kyle and Mitch, “I hope you both know what an asshole this guy is. He’ll turn on you in two seconds.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kyle said. “Hey, if you beat him up, I’ll give you ten bucks.”

“Thanks, Kyle.” Jordan rolled his eyes. “Listen Rick, is there something specific you wanted to say to me or are we done here? I mean, we’re both aware I fucked Maria and you’re pissed off about it. We’re kind of going around in circles at this point.”

“I should tear your face apart,” Rick growled.

“Yeah, you should,” Jordan said thoughtfully. “So go ahead and do it. What the fuck are you waiting for, Dawson?”

Rick really looked like he was going to hit Jordan, but then he suddenly backed off. “You’re not worth it,” he muttered.

Jordan burst out laughing. “I’m not worth it? Are you kidding me? What kind of pussy talk is that?” Jordan wheeled toward him. “Come on, you know you want to fuck me up. Go ahead and do it, shithead.”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Rick said. “So everyone in the bar could see me beating up on a cripple.”

“You want to go outside?” Jordan offered. “Would that make it easier?”

Rick stared at him for a minute, then finally shook his head. “Fuck you,” he said.

“Oh, great comeback!” Jordan called after him as he walked away. “Give my regards to Maria!”

Jordan wheeled back to the table, laughing to himself. Mitch was staring at him and Kyle let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Holy fucking crap,” Kyle breathed. “I thought that guy was going to murder you.”

Jordan shrugged. “Nah, I could tell he was full of it.

“What if you were wrong?” Mitch asked.

“Yeah, so what’s he going to do? Cripple me?” Jordan smirked. “You think with the shit Kirsten and I have pulled, I haven’t gotten dragged out back and had my ass kicked before? I can take it.”

“I’ve never wanted you more,” Mitch said.

Kyle hated to admit it, but he felt a new level of respect for Jordan. Kyle knew that he himself would never have had the nerve to stand up to a guy like Rick that way. Maybe he had been underestimating Jordan. He’d have to stop doing that if he was going to win back his car and teach Kirsten a lesson.

“I swear, Jordan,” Mitch said as he ran his hand up Jordan’s arm, “the way you were talking to that guy, provoking him like that, I thought you had some kind of death wish.”

Jordan smiled. “I do.”

Mitch laughed at the apparent joke, but Kyle wasn’t altogether sure Jordan wasn’t serious. Whatever was lies or bullshit, that antidepressant medication he took was for real. Jordan Grant wasn’t a happy person. Kyle wondered what it would do to him if he lost the only person he loved.

Jordan, Kyle, and Mitch got back to the room just in time for Kirsten’s phone call. Jordan was expecting Kirsten to show up around nine and it was nearly eight now. He wondered if she was going to show up early. He couldn’t wait to tell her about running into Rick Dawson—she’d really get a kick out of that.

“You’re early,” Jordan said, smiling as he answered the phone.

“Actually,” Kirsten said, “I’m afraid I have to cancel.”

“What?” His smile disappeared. Kirsten was famous for canceling out on dates at the last minute, but she had never done it to him. He thought they had an understanding.

Prince Edward was Manchester University’s royalty. He was a junior at Manchester, like Jordan and Kyle, and apparently a prince from some European country. Jordan had met him once and thought he seemed like an arrogant prick. But Jordan knew Kirsten had a huge hard-on for royalty.

“Face the facts, Jordan,” Mitch said. “You’re gay. Nobody can fuck a guy like that and be straight... or even bi.”

“No,” Jordan said. “I’m just really, really, really good in bed.”

Mitch had to laugh. “Well, everyone should have one talent, right? Would you like me to demonstrate mine?”

Mitch bent down and began to unbutton Jordan’s pants. Jordan shook his head, “I’m not really in the mood, Mitch.”

“Then why are you hard?”

Jordan looked down and was surprised to see that he was in the mood. “You’re touching me. It’s not like I can control it.”

“I can’t control myself either,” Mitch said as he plunged Jordan’s dick onto his mouth. He pushed Jordan’s legs to either side to give himself more room. Jordan’s left foot fell out of the footrest onto the floor. Despite Jordan’s earlier protests, he slid down in his chair and began moaning softly.

“I never gave a guy head in a wheelchair before,” Mitch said, looking up at Jordan. “I’ve given head in a taxi, a library, a bus, a men’s room, a ladies’ room, but never a wheelchair.”

“Is it just as fantastic as you dreamed it would be?”

“Actually, I never really fantasized about gimps until I met you.”

“That’s very flattering.”

As Mitch wrapped his tongue around Jordan’s circumcized penis, he began slowly sliding his hand up his pants leg, feeling the hairs on his paralyzed leg.

“All right, all right,” Mitch muttered. He couldn’t understand why Jordan was acting like this, but he supposed it was his own business. All the really cute ones were eccentric like this anyway. And as Mitch tasted Jordan’s hot cum in the back of his throat, he decided it was worth it.

Kyle didn’t have a date that night. His social life so far this semester had been dismal. He was so wrapped up in thwarting Kirsten and Jordan that he just didn’t have the energy left to cruise for chicks of his own. He would up taking a jog around campus and returned soon after Mitch stumbled out of the dorm, a dazed smile on his face.

Kyle went straight to his room without saying hello to Jordan. He lay down in his bed and picked up a dirty magazine from the floor. He felt a little pathetic when he realized this was the closest he had been to a naked girl all semester.

After about an hour, Kyle heard a knock on the door. He looked up. “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” It was Jordan’s voice.

“Go ahead,” Kyle said. He put down the magazine and stood up. He knew it was an asshole move on his part, but he figured making Jordan look up in order to talk to him gave him an advantage.

Jordan opened the door and wheeled into Kyle’s room. He was wearing his glasses and his hair was slightly disheveled. He looked like a mess and Kyle felt his resolve weakening slightly. “What do you want?” Kyle asked sharply. Stay strong, he’s just manipulating you.

“Look, I’m asking you nicely,” Jordan said. “Please call off this bet. You made your point, now let’s just drop it.”

“Forget it,” Kyle said.

“You win, okay?” Jordan shifted his weight in his chair. “I want you to stop. Please.”

Kyle shook his head. “I thought you weren’t afraid of me and all that bullshit.”

“The point is, both you and Kirsten deserve to get what’s coming to you,” Kyle declared.

“What will it take to get you to stop?” Jordan asked. Kyle saw the look in his eyes... Jordan meant it. He wasn’t messing around anymore—he was scared. “What do you want? Money? I’ll buy you a new fucking car, okay?”

“You rich people think that anyone can be bought, don’t you?” Kyle sneered.

“What do you want me to say?” Jordan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “She’s the only person in the world I give a shit about. She’ll leave me, okay? She’s been waiting her whole life to be swept off her feet by a fucking prince. You have no idea.”

“Yeah, but it’s her bet and she wants to win.” Kyle frowned. “Besides, she’s your cousin. You shouldn’t be together anyway. It’s not like this would last.”

“Kyle...” Jordan looked up at him and now Kyle could see his eyes were bloodshot. “Look, I’m begging you, call it off.”

Sometimes Kyle wished he were more like Kirsten and didn’t have a conscience. But he had to stay strong—it was the only way he could beat her. “What are you worried about, Jordan?” he said. “Didn’t you tell me that Kirsten always wins?”

“You can’t win against Kirsten,” Jordan replied. “But you can win against me.”